Friday, August 27, 2004

did someone slip extacy into my daughter's milk?

First of all, I admire all women who stay at home with young children and not go insane.
I think, I would have to be placed on suicide-watch if I had to do this (stay home with 2 young ones) all day, every day of the year.
I wonder, how 2-year-olds make it to their third birthday, at all. I mean, I can't expect every parent to be knowledgable, reasonable, well-read or somewhat controlled. Not that I am any or all of that but maybe some of it. How did toddlers survive in medievial times? How do they survive with someone who has no understanding of a child this age? ... I mean, at the moment, I just want to beat her all day and if I didn't know better I probably would. She is driving me up the wall and only a mother will understand. Now I FINALLY understand the outbursts of my mom. The few ones she had when I was around Maia's age and which I never forgot. A slap in the face, a time-out in the boiler-room, a good shaking in search for any sense in me. Don't get me wrong, these were exceptions to the rule ...I was actually raised laissez-faire (spelling?)...but I remember these moments like yesterday (although, this saying isn't to be taken literally, for I don't reallly remember what the hell I did yesterday).
Thus, I am being very careful (and very grown-up, although I don't want to be) to avoid any traumatic experiences for Maia. But I'm a ticking time-bomb so sooner or later, I'm going to give her that moment of shameful weakness of mine....where I tell her something mean or so... and she'll remember it forever.

Sunday, August 22, 2004

harlem gospel for austrians

Today was a day so long I can't even see straight anymore. I've been up since 6 a.m., which is when my 2 year-old decided to begin her day of mischief. It wasn't even 8 a.m. yet and she had already stuck her hand into the toilet to fish for her bowel movements to check consistency, I suppose. Never mind the fact, that she had at this point already been dressed for church with the only church-qualifying clothes she owns. We're not really church-goers, in fact, I'm not even Christian (I was raised Islamic and would consider myself agnostic at the moment), however, my mother who is visiting from Austria wanted to see some gospel service in action, so today we became the only white people attending a beautiful sunday service at a baptist church in Harlem. It was really great and the gospel choir was fantastic. Thankfully, my mother decided not to dance to the music (as she told me later, she was afraid I would yell at her for such "embarrassing actions"), even though people at the service were quite living it. Shaking, dancing, singing, clapping, laughing, praising... ahh it was just great.
Of course, we were totally underdressed but Dario had warned me of that. "Black people go to church in suits" he said "soo, your tanktop skirt combination ain't cutting it."
Unfortunately I don't own any fancy clothes so it had to do. I put a cardigan on as not to look too slutty. Also, I made sure to carry the baby when I entered the church to divert attention away from my cheapy clothes.
In church I had a little epiphany.... as I was sitting realizing how good it felt to be spiritual and how little it mattered that I don't believe in the whole Jesus thing (i.e. seeing Jesus as God's son but rather as a prophet...as I was brought up) I thought about the possibility that all God really wants is for people to reach out for him. It doesn't really matter, through which church or which creed or which way ever, as long as you are reaching out to God. Even if you don't have a religion... and lead your life by morals and ethics everyone should know without a handbook... it doesn't matter. Just reach out...just find a way to connect.
And, I wondered, how is it that people still kill for this shit. God runs this shop called earth... who are we to decide who is right or wrong. Who are we to decide to take someone's life as punishment for whatever...
After the service I felt like I needed some of this spiritual stuff in my life more often. I felt good.

Saturday, August 21, 2004

wasting time with online shopping

don't go to
craigslist.com, ebay.com, babycenter.com (if you have kids), and anything of the kind. unless you like spending money and time on the internet...which you probably do (the latter, at least) otherwise you wouldn't be reading this blog. you could be doing something much better at this very moment. just like I could. .... hmmmm.... ah, lemme get real... I don't have a life. my kids are sleeping and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm still in shock they're both out so I get leisure time panic which leads to me doing either
a) nothing or
b) surfing the web with no particular aim (which usually results in me spending money I do not have for things I do not really need or wasting precious me-time I most certainly don't have too much of at all...)
so, why am I still typing?
cause I'm an idiot. ... and I like to write...although, my grammar and vocabulary suggests differently.... but hey, I've got an excuse. I'm not from here ... (never mind that I've been here for 8 or so years...or the fact that I've gone to college here)....
I should start writing in German.
Wie geht's euch? Alles paletti? (wait...that last one was Italian... wasn't it?)
There was a time when I spoke/understood/etc. Italian, as well as French, Arabic, German, Spanish, Swiss dialects, Vorarlberger Dialect ;), ...dialect? or...dialeKt? I don't know.
now I don't speak anything except for crappy English and out-of-order German.
ok. I will shut up now to spare you any more pain since you seem to not be able to stop reading...
later... I hope I'll have more interesting material to write about next time I log on to my beloved blog.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

toddlers. keeping you on the edge

Maia might only be two years old but she has the power to bring me to the edge like no other. It's always a different edge, though. Sometimes it's embarrassment, sometimes fear or sheer terror, sometimes frustration, and sometimes laughter that makes you wanna pee in your pants.

Yesterday it was the edge of fear for me.
We went to Wave Hill (nice little estate nearby open to the public) www.wavehill.org Anyway, we went up to the little fish pond. A very dark pond full of water-plants and gold-fish. Maia insisted on kneeling on the edge to dip her hands into the water. I figured, ok if I see her tumble I'll catch her. I'm prepared. Of course, Maia waited with her clumsy little self until I had my hands full, helping Dario with the baby. That very moment, in which D and I both were holding the baby, Maia fell head forward into the deep pond. My reaction was delayed, for I had to make sure D had the baby - only a fraction of a second but enough for Maia to be completely submerged in the black water and for me not being able to get a quick and good grip on her. Poor thing was under water for a good 10-15 seconds until I got her out. She took a moment to catch a breath and then broke into tears. My knees were bloody, for I had thrown myself to the ground with just a skirt on. Thankfully, I was able to make her laugh it off, although terror was thriving inside of me. All the what-ifs were twirling in around my head...
This is actually on of the big fears of mine...involving my kids, still so little. Pools, car-accidents, and for some reason...kid-nappings.
sigh.

Well, let me jot down a few funny episodes as not to depress myself...

we went to the pharmacy and as we are standing in line I explain to Maia that I need to get cream for Nayla's thrush. Maia looks at me with determination and explains at the top of her lungs. "Mami, I need to get cream, too!" She turns around bends over and points directly to her tush "...for my BUTTHOLE." ...
I was a bit in shock. Once again, I found myself confronted with the teachings of Dario to my little daughter. ...butthole... who says that?...

a worse anekdote to his teachings, however, is when we (Maia and I) went to the store a few days ago and as she is sitting in the shopping cart she lifts her behind halfway in the air and lets one rip so loud (and adult-sounding) that everyone around us just turned their heads in shock.
A frightening moment of silence....everyone thinking that was me.... me not being able to blame it on Maia, for that would sound childish and unbelievable .... and then, thank God, ...she calls out proudly : " MAMI, I passed GAS! :D"

Friday, August 13, 2004

the paranoia of the american people and other cultural differences

... hmm, ok so this is an observation as an outsider who has been pulled into the whole paranoia trip and only occasionally manages to come up for air and realize that she's been swimming with the current driven by the media. ... and I don't always speak about myself in the 3rd person ...it just seemed grammatically called for.... but, of course, I am too lazy to look this up ...also, I don't think you care.

anyway, so the paranoia thing is really something here. just watch the evening news. every night there is something else they come up with, which is bad for you. cigarrettes, coffee, drugs, ...geez .
.. ok, but seriously... I'm not sure if living in this country has made me more aware or more paranoid. I'd like to think more aware but that's quite an arrogant assumption especially in light of recent wartime propaganda caused paranoia. Orange alert here, red alert there, WMD possibly here, WMD possibly there... sigh....and all just for the sake of keeping "the great beast" in check (referal to the American general population by Alexander Hamilton - and no, I'm no great intellectual who reads lots of history books... I got this from the Chomsky book, I talked about in an earlier post).
Of course, the paranoia card is not only played in politics , it's equally present in anything concerning our health (first: disinfect your hands as much as possible. then: antibacterial soap is bad for you. first: eat lots of lettuce. then: lettuce is carzinogenic. ...etc. etc.) or our children. Especially first-time parents seem to be talked into a lot of shit they don't need or are alienating themselves from their peers in all sorts of ways...
the other day I was trying to sell a used electric breast-pump on my online mother-baby community group. My "ad" wasn't up for more than a day and already had someone found 3 articles on why not to use old breastpumps. After reading the article, I learned that this risk of infecting oneself with all kinds of crap even if using brand-new attachements is only a theoretical risk, for there are no actual documented cases of mothers or infants being infected with anything that way. Thank God, I wasn't the only one who replied to this with scepticism to this concern, which only shows not everyone (i.e. all americans) is (are) as paranoid as I thought.

But one thing I can say. The European mentality is very different that way.
I remember the days when I first came to the U.S. Germ consciousness was something rather far in the back of my head. For instance, I would have shared my drink with anyone who would have asked me. Today I can't sit or touch anything anymore without vividly imagining who peed, licked or vomited there last. It's ruining my life. aaaahhhh, the bliss of ignorance... ;)

Other things I would do in my not-quite-assimilated-yet phase:

  • When I pulled out some gum or chips in the subway, I used to offer the people next to me as not to be rude by not asking.
  • I once let a homeless dude sleep in my sleeping bag, while I was freezing my ass off spending the night at a Greyhound station (waiting for the first bus).
  • I don't remember how many people I gave my last cent of the day because they got me with some sob story about them being stranded or whatever.
  • I used to give one or two dollar-bills to every homeless person who would ask me for some change, even though I barely could afford my daily meals. I just thought it would be rude to give the man change only.
  • While au-pairing in Philly, we (my girl-friend Anita and I) used to go out clubbing until the clubs closed at 2a.m. and then just ask someone in the club if we could crash at their place. Gosh...I hope my daughters will never read this... that was probably one of the most stupid things I have ever done, although we did meet a couple of really cool people. However, we did meet a bunch of shady people, as well. And I swear, one time we ended up in some mafia joint. We had solicited some Italian guy for a roof over our head for the night and he decided to take us to some other bar before heading home. He mumbled a code-word before getting into the place. Bathrooms were for cocaine administration only (I think, I was the only one actually using the bathroom), people at the bar with 8 pound gold-chains and sparkling gold-teeth. And hoochies everywhere your eye would turn to.

maybe I'll write down my au-pair experiences some other day. I should be working right now. need that damn money. ... I should read some more Thoreau. Just bought this new book with a collection of Henry David Thoreau's letters to a certain Mr. Blake. Maybe I get inspired and quit my job. ;) ... well, I guess, at this point I either explain or I send you somewhere for more info.
I'll do the latter. I'm lazy:
http://www.bradleypdean.com/seeker/

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

political clothing tags


A friend just e-mailed this to me..;) Posted by Hello

Monday, August 09, 2004

bad pictures

i've come to the conclusion that some of the pictures I just posted (see below) look bad ... too much loss of color and detail....

sunday stroll through Greenwich Village


beauuuutiful afternoon Posted by Hello

another stoop photo of me and jessie Posted by Hello

jessie & marta in front of a movie-poster Posted by Hello

father with trumpet (jazz in Washington Square Park) Posted by Hello

old man and wooden chief in front of tobacco shop Posted by Hello

passers-by discussing adult toy functionalitiesPosted by Hello

me and Jessie (resting during a walk through Greenwich Village) Posted by Hello

talking to God with NY attitude

today, as I was walking a long way home around the reservoir, I was sending one of my already too rare prayers towards heaven... and after I was done I couldn't believe how much ghetto I had just packed in there...
here some paraphrased excerpts:
" yeah, hi, it's me. just wanted to say thank you for letting me off the hook today and giving me time off from my children. and ...ehm...of course, thank you so much for my children...I really really love them.... and please don't ever take any of my complaints seriously....especially the ones where I am at the utter end of my patience... ok? ... that's just the devil talking...or something of the like..."
[...]
"...And since I'm at it (praying, I mean), I should probably ask for world peace..but I doubt, that'll ever happen no matter how much I wish for it, right? ... Only way there will be peace on earth if there is a new beginning ..i.e. you destroy us all, or we destroy ourselves ...we're on a pretty good path for that.... why do we suck so much ass? (did I just say 'ass' in my prayer? I'm sorry God... please send me a sign when I've been living in this city for too long... ....
anyway, just in case.... I pray for world-peace."

[...]
"....also, could you please please please do me the favor and let me die BEFORE my children. Please. I don't think I could live if it where the other way around. ... "
[...]
"ok. so next time, I'll try this with a bit more "head bowed, respectful tone"-kinda way. ...it's this city, I'm telling you.
...sorry. ....and thank you so much. so far I've had a pretty good run and I'm very thankful for that...thank you thank you thank you. ... amen."

Saturday, August 07, 2004

strange career choices

I just filed an application for the NYPD test. I didn't know they only give those admission-tests every 4 or 5 years, and since I've been playing with the thought of being a cop in NYC for a few years (to see what it's like and get to park whereever I need to) I figured, I better take that test.
It might take up to 4 years if and until they assign you.
After filing the application I wondered what the hell I'm doing. I'm no cop-material. I'm a pacifist and I don't think this is what it takes to make it in the NYPD. Also, I don't think the pay is too good. And I hate it when people lie or do wrong things when they KNOW it's wrong. All things of a day in the life of a cop, no? So, I suppose, to land this job I need to watch lots of DeNiro and Morgan Freeman movies and work on that bitch-gear I was talking about in an earlier post. I also need to get comfortable with the fact that there will be guns involved in my daily work-load. Guns that might be fired. At me. ...
ok. maybe I should just stick with using my camera to shoot. I really miss not being able to find the time for my photography projects anymore. Street-photography is my thing but
I can't just walk the streets (usually in the Bronx) with my two little children in tow.
sigh.
What is a woman to do?
Maybe I'm too old for a career change...after all I am turning 30 soon ...aaaaaaahhhhhhhhrgg

Thursday, August 05, 2004

the bitch-gear in me

I have a whole bunch of different gears, just as we all do. There is the quiet gear (mostly in the mornings), the perky gear (mostly when socializing), the stressed out gear (mostly when working), etc. etc. However, a gear that has only recently been introduced to my personal mood-transmission is the bitch gear and it seems to have been placed there by Dario's doing solely. I'm unstoppable sometimes and he makes sure to keep this gear running smoothly by provoking me continously. Why, I wonder, does he do this. Does he not wanna get laid?

I have made the self-observation that my libido goes down if a) D spends more than 3 or 5 hours on the computer more than 2-5 days in a row b) D doesn't do a thing in the house for days and c)if I don't get time off away from kids and house.
Of course, him always wanting to get straight to it ain't helping either with building the mood.
Yup, I guess, I'm your traditional, stereotypical female (in that aspect, at least).